


Operation Honeypot

by seaweedredandbrown



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: A whole lotta hurt and not much comfort, Anal Sex, Angst, Human-Kaiju-Human three-way, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Sedation, Self-Hatred, The Drift (Pacific Rim), VERY light bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedredandbrown/pseuds/seaweedredandbrown
Summary: The plan is simple: have dinner with him, seduce him, talk him through the afterglow, bring him to their side. It goes exactly as well as one might have expected.





	Operation Honeypot

“Honey, I’m home,” Newt calls, blithe and breathless, moaning as Hermann’s teeth graze his throat. “And you’ll never guess who I brought home for dinner.”

“Will you please cease that ridiculous little pretence?” Hermann asks between kisses, pushing him harder against door they’ve just closed. “I thought we had established ‘Alice’ is not, in fact, a woman, or a human being at all.”

Newt hasn’t even bothered switching the light on. The shadows of the city lights live on below his windows, ghosts of red and green playing on his walls, outlining furnitures he doesn’t remember buying, doesn’t want to bother showing to Hermann. The only light is the yellow of Alice’s tank filtering through the bedroom door, and _that_ he wants to show to Hermann. 

In a minute. They’re kinda busy right now.

“Oh yeah, and you’re happy you drew that one outta me, aren’t you?” He chuckles, kneading his fingers into the muscles of Hermann’s ass, deep and strong through this awful outfit of his until he groans. He’s gotta go easy on the Bad Side, but that just means he can go harder on the other one, right?

“Mmh, I might be,” Hermann purrs. “Guess we’ll have to talk about all this at some point, won’t we?”

“Yeah,” Newt answers, swallowing down the stomach-churning, uneasy temptation of just telling Hermann everything, right here, right now, with Hermann’s hand on his hair and his lips at his throat and their bodies pressed together against the door. 

Well, they could talk, of course. There’s so much Newt would like to talk to with Hermann and it does pain him that they won’t, because Newt’s gonna end the world. Sometimes it pains him so much he screams. But there is no other way. The voices in his head are too strong. He’s given up. Sometimes he fights Them. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he remembers what he’s fighting for and who against. Sometimes he doesn’t. But he knows it must have mattered to get that whole drone operation set up, even if he doesn’t remember why he insisted so hard They let him do it that way. And he knows it was important to bring Hermann home, to bring him to Alice. Because They want him too, of course, he’s so brilliant and the only one They are rightfully afraid of. They couldn’t infect Hermann when they Drifted, because Hermann has spent his life repressing his desires and compartmentalising everything. He’s spent his life being a soldier and a hero when Newt has spent his life being a— _piece of shit waste of space and oxygen despicable creature stupid primate funny little joke of a man_ …

“Newton?” 

“Yeah—” Newt blinks, Hermann’s voice jolting him out of his self-hating tirade . “—later. Let’s talk later.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it…”

Newt kisses him in lieu of an response, and that works, that should work for a while. Kissing Hermann always works, it’s so bad that they haven’t done that in so long. So bad they haven’t talked in so long, but he doesn’t remember how or why, because Hermann’s lips are the sweetest, smoothest things. Herman’s lips make him forget everything. 

To think Hermann literally jumped his bones once Newt admitted that, _fine_ , he’s just a loser with an imaginary girlfriend. Surprising how much lighter he feels now that the lie is out, or rather, that he’s not lying to Hermann anymore, but to himself. Newt’s not the kind of guy who pretends to have a more active dating life than he has, because Newt doesn’t care. But then Newt isn’t the sort of guy who helps aliens in their conquest of the world, Newt’s the sort of guy who puts his life and his sanity on the line, who fries his brain so that the big bad lizards from space can’t put another scaled paw on that green, blue earth. 

So it’s a nice lie, and there was this look on Hermann’s face, when they met earlier that day. Shao was invited to a meeting at the Moyulan Shatterdome, and she does like to show Newt around over there, for all that she’s all over his back wherever else. Newt thinks she likes to dangle him under the nose of the PPDC, because she got him and they didn’t. Newt doesn’t mind, because neither Shao nor the PDDC ever got him the way They did, but that’s beside the point. The point is that Hermann was there too and managed to snatch Newt away a moment to show him his latest upgrade on J-tech. 

Newt doesn’t remember what happened there very well, what he does remember is that when they parted Hermann said something like, “Give my best regards to Alice. Oh, Vanessa will be in Beijing soon— she’ll be hopping around for a bit, we should all go for coffee. How does that sound? Double-date style?” 

Newt opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything. Vanessa? After all this time, after all these years? Really? 

“Well, I mean— Alice is like, Alice is like, she’s like, she’s super busy, I mean, I wouldn’t go for— You know Alice is—” 

“No,” Hermann interrupted him, voice very even. “I don’t. I don’t know. Newton, you have been dating this girl for years and you haven’t told me the first thing about her.” 

“Well, you haven’t told me much about Vanessa either,” Newt tried to counter, although he realised his mistake too late. 

“Newton, you were a witness at my wedding.” 

“And I didn’t show up!” Newt rose his hands, both in submission and in defeat to Hermann’s glare. “Which— fine, was a dick move all around, I’ll grant you that one. Ugh, you really wanna know about Alice, uh? Fine, I’ll tell you about Alice. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about her!”

 

Next thing Newt knew, they were shouting, and They were shrieking, and Newt was this close to tell Hermann _everything_. 

He ended up telling him nothing because they started making out as soon as they’d reached the elevator; at some point Newt thought they wouldn’t even make it to the penthouse. That they were just going to suck each other off under the watchful gaze of the building security camera, that he was going to rock his hips until they’d both come in their pants like teenagers. That the years of frustration building between them, the years of neglecting their feelings and burying them, the years of pretending the tension just wasn’t there… That it would all would catch up with them and that they’d end up rummaging through Newt’s special stash to try and get a second wind going. But they _did_ reach the penthouse and now they _are_ about to fuck. He’s about to ride Hermann Gottlieb’s dick and if that isn’t the one thing he wanted to do before ending the world, he doesn’t know what else could possibly be.

Oh, wait, he _does_ know. Another shot at a musical career, another three or four decades of bickering with Hermann ‘cause that’s just so much better than bickering with anyone else, maybe another three or four decades of kissing Hermann like that, wouldn’t that be nice? To have this, yeah, and to have it for the rest of his life. That’d be really sweet. 

Except he isn’t sure he could have had it before and he’s damn well sure he can’t have it now. The world’s got to end, because he’s betrayed his friends, betrayed his values, and let monsters make a nest in his heart and in his head. Because he’s such a piece of shit who couldn’t get anything right, because who lets themselves be infected by the very thing they’ve studied their whole life? What sort of man, in the middle of all this, cannot find the strength to come clean to his friend and plans to seduce him to the dark side instead? If only that could save him, but no, Newt can’t even save Hermann, could barely stall Them for a decade. 

But. 

He is going to ride Hermann’s dick. 

And that _has_ to count for something. 

Newt closes his eyes with a whimper and abandons himself to self-loathing and lust.

———

Hermann’s reaction to Alice isn’t half as horrified as Newt would have hoped — not ‘hoped’, why would he hope that, Alice is _beautiful_ — but it’s still absolutely hilarious.

“You should see your face right now.” He giggles, sliding a hand around Hermann’s waist and kissing his cheek. He thinks Hermann smells of cherry blossoms and peppermint. It’s sweet and heavy, intoxicating. He could get drunk off the scent. That’s okay, he hasn’t been sober in a decade. “Hermann, my man, you should really see your face. So, what d’you think? Isn’t she pretty?”

“Alice is a fragment of a kaiju brain,” Hermann whispers. “I was— foolish of me, I know, but I was expecting a cat.” 

He’s paled but he’s still standing, his eyes wide and dark. They are making a bit of a ruckus in Newt’s brain and he silences Them as best he can. He already told Them; it’s normal for Hermann to be afraid and it’s normal for him to be hesitant. Doesn’t mean he won’t join Them, not when he gets a taste, not when he feels how good Newt can make this for him.

“I know.” Newt grins. “Awesome, isn’t she?”

“Later,” Hermann says, unable to look away from the tank, “you’ll have to tell me how you salvaged… her. I was under the impression she had been destroyed in the— in the aftermath.”

“Yeah, well, am I a genius or what?” He shrugs. “If you think that’s weird, wait until I tell you I _grew_ her.”

“You—” This time Hermann does make a face and Newt kisses the horror away. “What sort of abomination, really?” He murmurs against Newt’s lips, and Newt laughs and pulls him towards the bed.

“Believe me, old man, you haven’t seen a thing yet.”

“True. You are still wearing way too many clothes.”

“Details. Say, you wanna try this? You, me and her?” Newt winks in a way that absolutely works on anyone at the hostess bar, thank you very much. He can literally feel Them cringing and it brings him more happiness than he cares to say.

Hermann groans and pulls Newt closer. “Newton, dear, you are _disgusting_. We are not—”

“Why not? Come on, I know you want to.” When the nagging tone doesn’t work, Newt trails a finger along the lapel of that awful thing of a coat, a move that always works on him at the hostess bar. “I’ve been in your head, Hermann Gottlieb. I know all that you may ever want.”

Not that he’s ever gotten to do much with that knowledge, since They haven’t allowed him much contact with him— hadn’t allowed him much freedom, not in the beginning, at least, not until he’d proven Them he could do this better without Them controlling his every move. Alice had come some time later, sweet little Alice… Newt knows Hermann is going to love Drifting with her. And Newt wants it himself. Doesn’t need it, no, doesn’t need it per se, of course not. He doesn’t need it to get in touch with Them, ‘cause They’re always there, always in his head, Alice’s just his reward for a job well done. She’s her own thing. He and her, they have their own thing, just like he’s going to have his own thing with Hermann. Or not, since the world’s gonna end. So maybe he’s just going to have his very own thing with Hermann, and Alice, and Them, since sex’s sort of a three-entity package deal these days. 

Not that Newt minds that much. He’s vaguely aware that They make it sexually satisfying, gratifying for him to Drift with Alice so that he keeps on working for Them, but he doesn’t care. All hard work deserves a fair payment and all that. And ending the world is probably the hardest work of them all, but frankly, convincing Hermann to join Them is going to come in close second, no matter how much Newt puts his back into it— not that he’s going to mind. As far as seducing the enemy goes, he could do this all day.

“You do, don’t you?” Hermann’s voice is soft; his hand rests on the small of Newt’s back, the taste of him lingers on Newt’s tongue, and suddenly everything feels suffocatingly soft and sweet. “You know that you are the one thing I want the most… And that I have wanted you for so many years, it’s been so long since we’ve done this.”

“And now you get to have me any way you want,” Newt answers, very fast, voice very high, almost a plea, “so let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Hermann nods and kisses him again; something in Newt relaxes as the events unfold in the desired direction once more. He’s never been able to deal with Hermann’s softer side, he’s never been able to deal with him when he wasn’t angry and abrasive; when he pretended to care, when he looked out for him, parka on his shoulders after an unplanned nap on his desk and cups of coffee mysteriously appearing out of thin air.

Softness, care, it’s all bullshit. Gives Newt anxiety. The hand in his hair should be pulling at it, not petting it gently, it should— it should be intense and a little rough, not, not _this_. It should be heavy with lust and electricity, not with feelings Newt is pretty sure he asked Them to burn away for him.

He’s got to focus on the mission. He’s got to focus on the positive. He’s gonna ride Hermann’s dick.

The kiss deepens and warms up at least; Hermann’s hand tightens its grip; the heat stirring at the pit of Newt’s belly drowning the rest of his lingering unease. This is fine. Once he gets Hermann hooked up on Alice, it’s all gonna be fine. They’re going to have the best Apocalypse, oh yeah. They’re gonna go with the biggest bang.

“Do I really get to have you any way I want you?” Hermann whispers between kisses. He pulls at Newt’s hair and Newt closes his eyes and leans back to offer better access to his throat, already gone, already there, already lost in whatever Hermann’s idea is as long as he gets to Drift with him and Alice.

“Yeah, man, anything.”

“Tied up a little?”

Newt opens one eye with a chuckle. “Sure, yeah, let’s get our freak on. What about that, what about that, you get to tie me up but we’re doing it with Alice?” Hermann rolls his eyes and pulls harder on Newt’s hair. “Mmh— Please, Hermann. You’re really going to like it. You gotta, you gotta remember the rush, don’t you? I’m sure you still crave it. Drifting’s so good, man. Can’t imagine anything better than Drifting with you.”

The words escape him and he hates himself for it; They shriek and he hates when They do that, hates that They are right and that he is weak without Them, that there truly is no salvation. 

“It is,” Hermann answers very soberly. For half a second, Newt thinks Hermann’s going to let go of him and leave. There’s an interesting cognitive dissonance between the part of him that hasn’t Drifted with Alice in almost fourteen hours now and thinks it is way too long a time without his precious baby, that if Hermann doesn’t want to get it on, then he can just leave and let Newt alone; and the part of him that wants to scream that if the rush was so fucking good, then why the fuck hasn’t Hermann—

Newt’s thoughts fade into kaiju blue.

“So whatcha say, mmh?” Newt purrs, this close to fluttering his eyelashes.

“I say…” Hermann sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. If that is what it takes, Newton.”

“What it takes?”

“To teach you a good lesson.” Hermann gives his ass a squeeze with a smile. “Take your clothes off.”

Age has softened Newt, a little. He’s always been chubby and he’s always been existing in the extremely tiny liminal space between ‘must retain the perfect exact body configuration he had when he first got tattooed’ and ‘can never control his food or drink intake, ever’. They helped with that, too. They helped with everything. It’s thanks to Them that he can undress in front of Hermann without shame or self-consciousness— well, not an absolute lack of shame or self-consciousness, because this is Hermann we are talking about. Hermann is the man who incited him so much sometimes they couldn’t stop arguing long enough to get intimate, the man who weaved intimacy along the bickering and care along the intellectual brilliance. Hermann, who never compromised, never cut him any slack just because he was a genius and should have his eccentricities looked over. Hermann, who looked at him like he could see him, beyond the high-pitched ramblings and the tattoos. 

Hermann who’s looking at him now like he’s never looked at him before, and yet who cannot see him at all.

Newt knows he is still being Newt, just a little bit, in the way he licks his lips and tries not to fidget as the last of his very expensive, tailor-made suit falls to the plush carpet and he reaches out his arms.

“Tada,” he sing-songs, smile widening as Hermann rolls his eyes. “Do I get a peek, too?”

“You get to shut up and give me one of your ties.” Hermann shakes his head, but there’s only fondness to it. “Surely you still have some of them, don’t you? Hurry up. Be a good boy.”

“Mh, you want me to be good for you.” Newt chuckles but here it is again, this heart-wrenching anxiety, this sinking feeling only Drifting with Alice can soothe. Soon, Newt tells himself, tells Them. Soon, very soon. He’s got this.

He’s got to focus on how much he’s got this, because he doesn’t like to open that drawer at all, the one where he’s stacked his old ties, his old shirts, his old PPDC badge, his old glasses broken and still smudged from that fateful night. 

‘Only half broken’, he thinks as he hands Hermann the first tie he fishes out. The glasses. Only the right lens is shattered. The left one only needs a bit of cleaning.

Hermann ties his wrists together on his chest and pushes him onto the bed before starting to unbutton his shirt with a smile. Newt rolls himself to the side to get a better view; he could be feeling vulnerable, exposed, but none of this matters because it feels good to feel the bonds and Hermann’s gaze. And, oh, age has not softened Hermann at all, has it? He is still so white, so pale in the yellow-green glow of Alice’s tank. The blue-green of his veins swirling along his arms; the dark brown patches of hair, thin on his chest and thicker where it cannot hide his arousal; the scar tissue spreading in fractals over his Bad Leg and hip… Hermann has barely changed. He’s still so wry-looking and yet so discreetly, so surprisingly strong. All those core strength exercises, all that physical therapy to try and reduce the strain of his condition on his body… Well, it won’t matter much in a bit. Just a few days now, just a few days until Newt launches his little babies to free his bigger babies and end the world… Ten years isn’t much, in the great scheme of things, but he’s glad he’s managed to stall Them that long if it got Them a foolproof earth conquest plan and him a night like this.

Newt looks at the hunger in Hermann’s eyes and thinks those ten years are entirely worth it.

———

There’s a tiny bit of logistics involved— there’s quite a bit of logistics involved, actually, to get them both all slick and prepped and ready, with the Pons headsets on their heads, Newt’s back against Hermann’s chest and Hermann about to give it to him.

“Fuck, man, get a move on-- I'm ready, I really am,” Newt whines, squirming, trying to grind against him. But Hermann only tightens the grip in his hair, keeping him still.

“Hush, don't be greedy now,” he whispers in his ear, all warm and tender. “I'm going to give it to you right now, my dear Newton... And you'll introduce me to your good friend Alice too, mh?”

“Hell yeah,” Newt breathes, craning his neck to try and steal a kiss Hermann indulges him in before laying him back where he wants him.

There's such a delight in being controlled, in being kept in his place... That's something They gave him, too, that perfect state of grace, of freedom, of lack of all responsibility whatsoever; but boy doesn't he like even more when Hermann does it to him. It's so good, so good that he could have this before the end of all things.

Hermann hooks a hand under Newt's leg and hoists it to better spread his legs, kisses his shoulder as he takes him by degree, slow and deep thrusts that already draw little undignified sounds out of him. They make a ruckus, once again, like They always do -- especially when he's trying to sleep, no matter how often he tells Them he bloody needs the sleep -- but They're so much easier to ignore now, with Hermann's hands in his hair and on his chest, with his teeth brushing past the soft flesh of his neck, and the hard, firm warmth of him filling him all nice and stretched.

It takes them another few thrusts to get into a rhythm where Hermann hits just the right spot each time and Newt has absolutely stopped existing wherever they do not touch, and that is _before_ Hermann initiates the neural handshake.

There’s no rush of memories this time, the connection is almost immediate. And Newt dies, Newt straight up dies, because there is no way that such an intense bliss can ever be given to him in the world of the living. In the blue of the Drift he is both Hermann holding him down, taking him, and himself being taken and held and filled; and They are there, too, to overwhelm every single one of his faculties that could never escape the all-encompassing pleasure, so much that he doesn't know who is doing the taking and who is being taken, whose hips are moving and whose little cries of pleasure it is; there is nothing else but pleasure, white hot and tear-inducing; Hermann's pleasure, Their pleasure, his pleasure; pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. If it wasn't for the tie, if it wasn't for Hermann's hand in his hair, Newt could melt into it all, he knows it. He would fade away into the white and the blue of the Drift.

He is too overwhelmed to think of having a peek at Hermann's mind; he can feel Them trying to prod through Hermann's thoughts and shrieking in anger when he doesn't let Them in-- but then Hermann has always been the stronger of the two. 

Time and space and the meaning of life unfold and implode around Newt; for a blissful moment, all is silent, all is quiet, all is peace; his spirit has soared to new heights, to a perfect place he’s only known once before, when he Drifted with Hermann for the first time and he felt like he’d found the exact spot he was meant to be. He is the bridge, he is the link between the raw chaotic power of the Anteverse and the machine-like mathematical precision of the human mind. He is the best of both worlds, meant to bring them both towards their uttermost perfect state; he is the Emissary—

Orgasm wracks his body like a sob and his soul falls right back into the carbon-based mess of his vessel. Gone is the perfect harmony of man, beast and machine; he has to remember how to exist in this plane of existence, he has to remember how to breathe. Hermann’s mind escapes his grasp, the Drift lingering between them as his neck is kissed and the Pons device is pulled away from his head.

Hermann talks to him and kisses his shoulder; he nuzzles into the touch and tries to remember who he is, his vision a blurred grey-white sky full of stars.

“I need you to remember this,” Hermann says at some point, and Newt puts everything he has into speaking.

“Remember what?” he asks, forcing his eyes open.

“That I am very sorry, and that I will be with you every step of the way,” Hermann says. Newt tries to turn to see him, see his face, understand, but Hermann’s hand on his thigh keeps him in place. His grip may not be very forceful, but as long as Hermann keeps him there, Newt thinks he won’t be able to move, no matter how much They want him to. Even if there’s a tremor in his hand, even if there’s a tremor in his voice, that’s too bad for Them, because in this one single instant Newt belongs to Hermann. 

It’s been so long since he’s felt like himself, might as well go from one master to another. 

There’s a weird little series of sounds and They shriek so loud - it’s thoughts, mostly, never words, if They could learn words instead of just sending him weird waves of self-loathing that’d be great - that Newt does find it in him to turn around.

“Hermann, what—” There’s a stinging pain in his left thigh, and he looks up in horror to see Hermann disregarding a syringe and reaching for another one. “Hermann, what the fuck?”

“Ketamine,” Hermann says, immediately stabbing Newt’s right thigh - he’s practiced this, Newt realises with something that is half admiration and half terror. “Five milliliters in each thigh. Onset between injection to sedation should be two to three minutes. I _will_ be there when you wake up.”

“Hermann,” Newt repeats, a spasm in his arm, “what the fuck?”

He is naked, tied up, his mind half-rented by aliens, and the man he’s in love with just sedated him. They have kept him panic-attack-free from the past decade but he isn’t sure an ancient evil race of earth-conquering extraterrestrial can do anything against the amount of _betrayed_ he is feeling right now.

Hermann sighs and reaches out, gently brushes a sweaty hair strand off his brow. Newt can feel his breathing shallow and his tension rise. This is not how things were supposed to go? He was supposed to capture Hermann and give him to his masters, to Them, not the other way around!

“A few months ago, Miss Shao informed us of some queer happenings within her company— queer happenings a skilled hacker such as myself kept on tracing back all the way to you. It wasn’t hard to find Hannibal Chau and talk him into boasting he’d sold you enough raw materials to bring a kaiju brain back to life… My poor friend, but what have they done to you?”

What has Hermann done to him, that’s what Newt wants to ask, but his body is getting heavier by the second; he knows that if he fights it, he’ll get the hallucinations, and he’d rather not get those, thank you very much, so all he can do is stare in horror and try to speak.

“I’ll have your dignity spared,” Hermann promises, as if that changed anything, as if Newt even had something akin to dignity left. “I’ll clean you up, put your clothes back on… No need to tell anyone how I came to subdue you, is there?”

A garbled sound crawls out of Newt’s mouth, but no matter how much They take control now, it’s too late— ‘mind over matter’ can only get Them so far.

“Get some rest, now, Newton… I wished so hard for there to be another way,” Hermann’s voice says, and it sounds so far away now. “But there isn’t, is there? We have such a long road ahead of us… I can’t tell you it’ll be easy, but I promise you won’t be alone.”

That’s the last thing Newt hears, and he wishes he could tell Hermann— he doesn’t want to be saved, he doesn’t want to be redeemed, all he wanted was to reach out for that place of belonging he’d found in the Drift.

‘We will find that place,’ he feels Hermann thinking towards him as his consciousness flickers into nothingness. ‘Together, as it should always have been.’

‘I love you too,’ Newt thinks, ‘but I’m scared love’s never gonna be enough for that, dude.’

And then there is darkness.

(The thing about darkness is: that, too, is blissfully silent.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D I had a lot of fun writing this, inspired by this [tumblr post](http://nokaijuentrailsplz.tumblr.com/post/172199340181). A thousand of very heartfelt thanks to [@nathan](https://twitter.com/nathanlaj) for his help in beta-reading this! Let me know what you thought in the comments, or get in touch with me on [tumblr](http://seaweedredandbrown.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/overlaured)~
> 
> ... And while you're there, check out the [timelaps fanart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FFarXFavJY&feature=youtu.be) my friend made for this! It's amazing! ;_; I am so happy I got such amazing friends.


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